Red's Birthday Surprise
by jackandsamforever
Summary: Red hates birthdays, and this year isn't any different until Liz shows up at his house.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything related to the Blacklist or its characters.

Red sat down heavily on the old couch in the Hempstead house, and watched the dust particles float around in the sunlight that was streaming in the window. He hated this day more than any other day of the year, and had dreaded it the entire week; to the point where Liz had noticed and had asked if everything was ok. He'd told her that he was fine, but he'd been lying to her and to himself. He was never ok, especially on this day.

He sat forward and poured himself three fingers of scotch, sat back and loosened his tie then crossed his legs and slumped down in his seat. He didn't feel like sitting properly or trying to keep up appearances, there wasn't anyone around to impress anyway. He downed his drink quickly then stayed where he was. He didn't have the energy to pour himself another.

Today, his birthday, was the day that reminded him of everything that he'd lost in his life. His wife used to help his daughter make him a birthday card that usually consisted of a drawing of the three of them together as stick figures and a "Hapy Birfday Dady" written across the top. Later, they would eat cake and ice cream, then cuddle on the couch and watch some kid's movie that he hadn't cared about, but endured, because his little girl wanted to watch it. It had been something he'd looked forward to the most during those precious couple of years. He found, looking back, that that had been the happiest time of his life. He hadn't realized or appreciated it then, but would do almost anything to go back and relive it again, and wished he still had at least one of those cards she'd made, but he never could find one. Tears stung at the corner of his eyes and he blinked him back; he didn't want to cry, he'd done enough of that over the years.

When unofficial government members and some higher-up Naval officers had first approached him on that fateful day, twenty-three years ago, and asked him to go deep undercover and carry out missions that weren't "Officially sanctioned", he had jumped at the chance. He was good at getting in and out of places without being detected and good at killing people when necessary. He'd never felt the kind of guilt that he should have, but rationalized that it was because he was killing people who didn't deserve to live and were dangerous to society. His wife hadn't wanted him to do it, but he hadn't listened and had told her that everything would be fine and to "Just think about all the extra money we'll have".

If he could go back in time, he would turn them down in an instant then tell them to never approach him again; but that hadn't happened, he'd agreed and it had gotten his family killed; It haunted him every moment of his life. In fact, the only time that it wasn't at the forefront of his mind was when he was with Lizzy, but he didn't want to think about her now, he wanted to hurt; he deserved it.

Red reached forward and picked up the large bottle of scotch from the coffee table. He wasn't going to pretend that he wasn't going to get good and drunk. This is what he did for his birthday every year, and wasn't planning on changing that anytime soon.

He sat there unmoving for hours and watched the sunlight fade behind the trees, then watched the moon come out and shine through the window, illuminating him in his drunken state. He'd heard his phone ping several times over the hours, but hadn't bothered to look at it. He just wanted to be left alone.

He was staring absentmindedly at the scotch bottle in his hand when he thought he heard a knock at his door. When he tried to listen for the sound again, there was nothing, so he chalked it up to his imagination.

He placed the bottle on the ground somewhat clumsily, then rolled his head on the back of the couch and stared at the dark ceiling. He finally felt numb and was glad for it. He only allowed himself to become like this once a year, but those few hours were like paradise to him; He didn't have to hurt anymore. The ache would be back soon enough, so he was going to enjoy the brief respite while he could.

He had his eyes closed when he felt, more than heard, a presence in the room. He cracked an eye open and could make out a dark silhouette standing in front of him. He tried to lift his head, but found that he was too far gone to do anything but stare at the shadow. He tried to say something, but it came out as a groan, and he realized that if the person was here to kill him, then they were going to have an easy time of it. He was defenseless.

As he mentally tried to prepare himself for whatever this person had in store for him, he heard _her _voice, "Red. What's going on?"

Shit. He didn't want her to see him like this; no one was supposed to see him like this.

Again he tried to say something, but nothing came out, so he just closed his eyes and tried to pretend that this was a nightmare and nothing more.

He felt the couch move beside him, then her hand was on his thigh as she said softly, "Come on, Red, let's get you to bed. In the morning you can tell me why the hell you're more drunk than I've ever seen you."

He tried to protest, tried his damnedest to say something, but was helpless as she pulled him to his feet. The room started to spin and he felt like he was going to throw up. He groaned; his voice raspy, "Lizzy, I'm going to vomit." He had to try his best hold it back, his dignity was already at an all time low.

She flung his arm around her shoulder, then put her arm around his waist and started leading him towards the bathroom. He couldn't hold much of his weight, so he leaned against her and just let her practically drag him to the bathroom. She was breathing heavily by the time they got there, and she led him over to the tub and sat him down on the edge. He swayed for a moment, but managed to steady himself somewhat.

As soon as she had her breathing under control she knelt next to him, "Do you still feel like you're going to throw up?"

He looked at her with slightly clearer eyes, "No."

She put her hand on his knee, "Why don't we get you in the shower, then put you to bed."

He shook his head, swaying slightly as he did so, and said rather clearly, "I'd rather just go to bed. I can shower in the morning when you won't have to hold me up."

Liz nodded and pulled him back up, then led him into his bedroom. She sat him on the edge of the bed and pulled off his shoes and socks, then took off his vest and dress shirt; leaving him in a white undershirt. She pushed him down on his pillow and he went without protest, he was exhausted and could hardly keep his eyes open. She began to unbuckle his belt to take his pants off, but he stopped her with a hand, his voice slightly slurred, "That's not necessary Lizzy, I can sleep in my pants."

"It won't be comfortable, just let me take them off, I promise not to look at anything." She smirked at him, but he was too far gone to tease her back, so he just nodded reluctantly.

She slipped his pants off quickly, leaving him in light blue boxers, then moved the blanket over his legs and up to his chest. He was almost asleep as she brushed her hand over his forehead, and his last thought before he passed out what how lucky he was to have this woman in his life.

OOOOOO

Red woke to the smell of coffee and groaned at the bright sunlight streaming in through his window. He didn't even remember how...wait...Lizzy had shown up and put him to bed after seeing him at his absolute worst. He was embarrassed to say the least.

His head felt like someone was hitting it with a hammer and he turned on his side to see what time it was; It was after 11:00. He noticed a glass of water and four aspirin sitting on the table, so he picked them up and swallowed them down quickly. He needed to make himself presentable before he talked to her, she had to believe that nothing was wrong and that he'd just had a moment of weakness.

He showered and shaved quickly, feeling much better afterwards, and dressed in his usual attire. He chose to wear a white shirt with black pin-stripes and a black vest and studied himself in the mirror. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced than usual, but he didn't think he looked much worse for wear after all said and done.

He strode out of his bedroom and into the living room, but his steps faltered when he saw Liz slumped in "his" corner of the couch, asleep, with a book lying on her chest. He smiled slightly and walked over and sat next to her. He must have moved the couch more than he'd intended, because she woke up quickly and sat up; the book sliding off her chest and landing with a thud on the carpet. She blinked tiredly and looked at him, "How are you feeling this morning?"

He grimaced, "Like a jack hammer is inside my skull." He hesitated and put his hand on her arm, "Lizzy, I'm sorry you had to see me like that last night. I'd had a few too many and didn't realize it until I was well past being drunk."

She narrowed her eyes, "Why?"

"Why, what?"

She looked exasperated, "Why were you drinking?"

He pursed his lips and looked away, "There wasn't any reason in particular. Like I said, I lost count and hadn't realized how far gone I was."

"Red, cut the crap. Quit lying to me."

He looked back at her in feigned surprise, "Sweetheart, what are you talking about?"

She shook her head and sighed, then stood up and walked over to the entryway table and picked up a small package, then walked back over and sat next to him on the couch; closer than before. "I know it was your birthday yesterday, what I don't know is why you felt like you had to get stupidly drunk instead of celebrating it."

He shrugged his shoulders, "It's just what I do. I always have." He couldn't ever tell her the real reason, it just wasn't going to happen, no matter how many times she asked.

She handed him the package that she'd retrieved. He took it hesitantly and looked at her, "What is it?"

She smiled, "Just open it; I'll explain after you see what it is."

He slowly tore the red wrapping paper off and saw that it was a frame. He turned it over and sucked in a breath. It was one of the cards his daughter had made for him. He felt like he couldn't breathe and that a tidal wave of emotion was threatening to burst out of him. All he could manage to say was a broken, "How?"

She looked concerned for him and moved closer so that they were hip to hip, "I was going through your case-file to corroborate a date and noticed that they had cataloged a birthday card in the evidence box. I asked Cooper if I could give it to you, since it didn't pertain to anything related to your disappearance, and he agreed to ask his bosses. I only just received permission yesterday."

He looked like he was going to cry as he ran a finger over the glass of the frame. "Thank you, Lizzy. This is.." He trailed off, too overwhelmed with emotion to say anything more.

She nodded and put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it lightly, "You're welcome. I'm just glad they let me give it to you. Happy belated birthday."

He smiled sadly and put his arm around her, then pulled her close and kissed her temple. After a few moments, he pulled his arm away and held the frame with both hands. The card was just like he remembered it being, and he smiled at the memories it evoked. He could picture his little girl drawing on the card, her tongue sticking out in concentration as her small hand moved with a precision that not many four year olds had. Tears came unbidden to his eyes and he let them fall; he was tired of hiding his heartache behind a devil-may-care attitude, and knew that he could let it out in front of Lizzy and she wouldn't hold it against him.

She put her arm around his waist and her chin on his shoulder. He turned his face to hers and smiled faintly once more, then resumed staring at the card.

She didn't ask anymore questions and he was grateful. He couldn't tell her the truth, but he could tell her about his daughter; which he proceeded to do. It was cathartic, and he was actually able to talk about her without the terrible ache returning in his chest; all because of Lizzy.

With just one gift, she'd managed to make him feel better than he had in years. Maybe, just maybe, he could make it through another year with her by his side. It certainly felt like it was worth trying.

**Author's Note: **I know this is a day late, but I had to write it. Happy belated birthday James Spader and Raymond Reddington! Please let me know what you think..even if it's just to criticize it. Thanks so much for reading.


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